OUT
by ayquefabulosa
Summary: A glimpse into the mind of that is Hemione Granger and what she was thinking and feeling right before and after Ron had left her and Harry in DH. Rated T to be safe. One-shot.


**A/N: I have returned to the magical world of Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges! This time I've challenged myself to write a fanfic centered around Hermione Granger, a character whom I really, really dislike. As you can probably guess, this is for The Character You Hate Writing Most Challenge by the lovely Ixy. This takes place during DH, jsyk. I took a lot of dialogue from the book; not that I'm not original enough to think of some, but because it fit the scene so well and it's mostly looking into Hermione's mind and stuff.**

**Key:**

_Italics_ are thoughts.  
><em>'Italics'<em> are scenes directly from the book.

"_Italics"_ are quotes directly from the book.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ron!"<em>

Hermione Jean Granger felt angry, hurt, betrayed, and an abundance of other things that she could've easily listed. But above all, confused and conflicted.

Confused as to why Ron had chosen that moment precisely to burst out angrily to her and Harry, as if the fact that they had only managed to find one Horcrux so far was all their fault. He knew that this wouldn't be easy – all of them did – but why would he act like this? The harsh, almost unreadable expression on his face was extremely unlike the Ronald Weasley she knew and loved. Yes, she was sure she was in love with this boy but after this encounter, found herself doubting even she knew the true Ron layered under the coats of anger and impatience.

Conflicted as to whose side she was to pick; after all, Ron told mostly the truth, despite her desperate attempts to disprove him. Could she have gone with Ron to an equally dangerous life, after their previous allegiance to Harry and finding all the Horcruxes and destroying them?

No, she reasoned. She couldn't and wouldn't betray Harry like the red-head in front of her was betraying both of them right this moment. She swore she wouldn't abandon them – not after all she had gone through with her parents – even if she was in doubt. Because, even though logic and reasoning almost always went first, she would always be fiercely loyal to those who deserved it. She refused to fail Harry and the rest of the Wizarding World because of what one man happened to say.

"_Take off the locket, Ron."_ The witch pleaded in an almost beaten tone, knowing that Ron was as stubborn as a pack mule in the worst of situations. _"Please take it off. You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day."_

_It's just the locket, _she thought hopelessly. _He wouldn't be acting this way if it weren't for that locket!_

Her mind almost immediately disproved the bold statement.

Harry voiced exactly what Hermione's mind was shouting. Ron was in no position to get off with hiding behind silly excuses. He further told them both off for thinking they could hide their talk behind his back, and get away with it!

Hermione shook her head, her muddy brown eyes had tears threatening to fall any second now, as she tried to stop him. Stop him from calling her out on the truth. Stop them from arguing. Stop the war and all the horrible things it was doing to their world!

"_Don't lie!"_ Ron butted in, obviously not content with all the attention Harry was getting. _"You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on than - "_

She didn't deny it, she was pouring out a waterfall and all of her previous excitement had vanished in a quick _snap! _The last time she remembered Ron getting this furious at her was during third year when she told Professor McGonagoll about Harry's Firebolt. She was only trying to help! What if it had been jinxed and Harry decided to take it for a ride? She wouldn't, no couldn't, stand by while one of her best friends got hurt in front of her own eyes. Not to her own parents (whom were now in Australia,) not to her friends.

The rain that was at first simply tapping on the tent, was now pounding as hard and as quick as a million heartbeats and set the mood of the once Golden Trio ever so nicely: ill-tempered, tearful, and deafening to the Muggleborn.

"Why are you still here, then?" Harry shot back at Ron, like a bullet shot right out of his mouth.

"_Search me."_

"_Go home then."_

"_Didn't you hear what they said about my sister? But you don't give a rat's fart, do you, it's only the Forbidden Forest, Harry _I've-Faced-Worse_ Potter doesn't care what happens to her in here – well, I do, all right, giant spiders and mental stuff -" _That seemed to be where Ron had finally decided he had enough of the small talk. All the while, she stood fearfully back as her heart broke with every statement he made some of them ringing true in her ears. She couldn't help but feel a pang in her chest every time he mentioned Ginny in his tirade - the not-so little girl and her had become quite close during the time that they had spent at the Burrow together – and prayed that she was safe.

What Hermione wasn't prepared for, was her sudden outburst as she lunged in between the two men.

"He could've meant Bill, whose already scarred, and George whose lack of an ear must've been noticed! You're supposed to be on your deathbed with spattergroit, as well -" Her eyes visibly softened as she tried to justify Harry's actions on the subject. He still wouldn't budge.

The rest was a blur to her; the yelps and exclamations all lost into one boisterous sound that she had somehow managed to block out with the rain. It was a miraculous curse (_An oxymoron, _Hermione scowled) to not have to bare listening to the dreadful noises coming from their mouths; she wished it would all end, be just another nightmare.

But that nightmare became a reality when in the corner of her eyes, the brightest witch of her year spotted both friends hands itching to their wands and in a split second reacted. She whipped out her wand faster than the speed of light and screeched, "_Protego!_" summoning an invisible shield that moved in between the two pausing the casting of any spell they could think of. The pure strength of the enchantment sent Ron and Harry flying backwards a foot, giving each other death glares that could've sent a professional rugby player running in the opposite direction. _If looks could kill_ suddenly ran through her mind.

She caught Ron tossing their only Horcrux onto the closest chair in the tent, making a loud plop which blocked out all other noise aside from itself. After doing so, he turned facing Hermione giving her an ultimatum. _"What are you doing?"_

"_What do you mean?"_ She knew what he meant.

"_Are you staying, or what?"_ He knew what her answer would be.

She knew, too.

He sighed, – he knew when he had lost - and said,_"'I get it. You chose him.'"_

"_'Ron, no – please – come back, come back!'"_ The witch ran after him, was stopped by her shield charm, and continued to run even though she knew he would be long gone by the time she reached him. She ran and called his name a thousand times each time more desperate and hopeless than the other. Until finally, she heard him Disapparating not too far away and sulked for minutes on her way back to Harry.

"_He's g-g-gone! Disapparated!"_

_'She threw herself into a chair, curled up, and started to cry.' _

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><p>Hermione feared failure above all, wallowing in the pit of her stomach for years knowing she had done wrong and could never erase this fact. The fact now was: she had failed. Immensely. She failed Harry by doubting him, making chaste comments behind his back, then almost jumping into Ron's arms when the chance came. But in a way, she had also failed Ron. By leading him on with all the talk of Harry's poor choices and lack of insight, by not jumping into the precarious arms of safety when he offered it. Despite knowing she had chosen right; doubt was gnawing at her head. She had failed Dumbledore by not entrusting that he had told Harry the necessary to survive and defeat Voldemort. And she had failed the Wizarding World by letting them cower in their houses, believing that the Chosen One and his friends had permanently abandoned them.<p>

As she sat in that chair, still wailing, the weight of the world was suddenly heavily burdened on her shoulders. So heavy, she didn't notice Harry lifting the sheets off Ronald's old bed and placing them on her. No, the burden was much heavier than any amount of blankets he could place.

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... _But the weight didn't vanquish as she wished Voldemort would.


End file.
